The Long Drink
“Drink me,”
soft, she whispered,
lost in his embrace.
Enraptured
by the etching of
desire upon his face.
Giving all
without a thought,
emptying her heart,
forgot that she
must quench her own
thirst once they were apart.
Parched and dry, she
wondered why,
when life had filled her cup,
the precious draft so easily
she had given up.
Still, should he come
and ask for some,
whatever may remain,
she’d gladly give,
long as she lived,
to have him drink again.
Cheryl KP
copyright 2015
Tropical Affair 
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